


Well, Why Not

by bestliars



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, Minnesota Wild, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-14
Updated: 2013-09-14
Packaged: 2017-12-26 12:40:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/966035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bestliars/pseuds/bestliars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brent Burns has a Harry Potter themed tattoo on his thigh and Mikko really doesn’t know why they’re having sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Well, Why Not

**Author's Note:**

> set at the very end of the 10-11 season.  
> I don’t know who I can blame for this, but I’m pretty sure it isn’t my fault.

Mikko's pretty sure this is not a good idea. On an incidental level there's nothing wrong with trading blowjobs in a hotel in Vancouver. It's a bad choice because it's part of a pattern that probably isn't healthy anymore.

Mikko never thought that this was a great idea. It certainly seemed like a less bad idea when they started, but that was a long time ago. He was twenty and they were playing in Houston during the lockout. Mikko would never have predicted it lasting so long. Brent didn't have this stupid tattoo back then. He wasn't married either.

That isn’t why this is a bad idea. Susan doesn't care about this — Mikko wouldn’t be doing this if she objected. It's only ever on the road, just for fun, or whatever. It’s easy for both of them, a less complicated, more satisfying way of scratching an itch. Mikko doesn't mind being the thing on the side. It isn't that he's looking for commitment. 

He isn't unhappy. 

It's just that he's getting older, and he feels a bit ridiculous that he's still fucking around on the road with a man who has a Harry Potter tattoo on his thigh.

Mikko can see it really well like this, down on his knees. Brent is sitting on the edge of the bed, legs open.

Mikko’s hands are settled comfortably on Brent’s hips, steady pressure that should remind Brent to mind his manners. 

Mikko’s coasting on autopilot. He knows what works for Brent, he doesn’t really have to listen for reactions. Some nights can get swept up in the feel of Brent’s cock in his mouth and the taste of skin or latex, but tonight it can’t hold his attention. 

Brent isn’t really his type. Maybe he was when this started, but certainly not anymore. Mikko had been young enough that he didn’t really know what he wanted other than someone else’s hand.

Brent is a large man. He’s rugged and has a lot of hair. For the most part he’s easygoing, almost goofy. It takes a lot to get him worked up to something fiercer.

Mikko’s type is...not that. 

If he weren’t so familiar, Brent would be overwhelming. But he isn’t, he’s just Brent, which means he is what he is, all messed up smiles, and questionable hair, and tattoos.

Mikko hates Brent’s fucking tattoos. He used to not have an opinion one way or another about inked skin, but being with Brent has made him dislike it. Maybe if the colors weren’t so bold he could appreciate the contrast between the artifice and natural skin? At this point he’s just resigned to attempting to ignore the markings.

He likes how when they’re doing this he can dig his fingers into the meat of Brent’s thighs, feeling the strong muscle. He can rake his nails across the skin, leaving raised red lines that cut across the fucking dragon flying in front of a fucking castle, adding his own contribution to the scene. They already get so many bruises, a few more little ones will go unnoticed, but there’s something nice knowing that the purple marks above Brent’s hip bones aren’t from a puck or a hit. 

Brent taps the side of Mikko’s face to let him know he’s close, an old signal. Mikko could already tell from the sound of his breathing. He chooses not to pull away. Brent’s hand falls to Mikko’s shoulder, holding on tight as he shudders and comes.

Mikko gets off his knees, and leaves to spit in the bathroom sink. He doesn't look in the mirror. He knows what he looks like — flushed yet sallow in the bad hotel lights — he’s gotten older, but hasn’t changed enough to make a real difference. He gets a drink of water, rinsing the taste of skin from his mouth.

Brent is propped back on his elbows, still breathing heavily when Mikko returns. "Hey." Brent smiles.

There’s a half moment where Mikko just stands there, uncertain of what to do next. He’s half hard already because he knows he’s going to get off next, and because he generally enjoys giving head. Still, he hesitates before going forward, not stopping to think about his actions, but pausing briefly to recognize that maybe he should.

But he doesn’t deliberate, he just goes forward, letting Brent’s nonverbal invitation pull him closer. 

Brent pushes Mikko back onto the bed and holds him there, kisses him. Mikko doesn't try to struggle. He wouldn't have initiated the kiss, but the way Brent bites his lip makes his blood heat up. It isn't gentle - Mikko would bet this isn't how Brent kisses his wife - but it works for them. He lets himself get shoved back with their momentum. The kiss isn’t a fight, there isn’t that back and forth. The kiss isn’t an attack, it isn’t that aggressive. It might be a gift that Mikko doesn’t really want but will use anyway because Brent knows just the way he likes to be kissed: deep and steady with the faintest hint of teeth on his bottom lip. They may not be great at communicating but they’ve got this part down.

Brent kisses him, and jerks him off, and Mikko goes with it. Brent knows how moist his hand needs to be, precome and a bit of spit. He knows just how rough Mikko likes it, when to stop or keep going. He knows how much pressure to put on Mikko’s hips, how much to let him move. They fall into a familiar rhythm. Mikko knows he won’t last that long.

The orgasm is more than satisfactory. It’s a whole lot better than jerking off alone and incredibly more convenient than trying to pick up in Vancouver.

Stupid and sticky, Mikko doesn't want to move, but he should go back to his own bed, leave Brent to sleep alone.

Mikko gathers himself together to go shower. Brent doesn’t open his eyes when he leaves.

He cleans up fast, a perfunctory rinse. He spends a long time brushing his teeth. He can’t avoid how tired his eyes look. He probably should have gone to sleep hours ago, but instead they watched a nature show and fooled around. It wasn’t bad, but Mikko could have used the sleep.

Brent hasn’t moved, he still lying sprawled and naked. He’s always been comfortable with his body. He went as far as to make it into a canvas to be displayed with the tattoos on his chest, on his left shoulder, all the way down his right arm. 

Mikko hates it. 

Maybe. 

He hates it if he cares at all. He wants to scratch the ink off with his fingernails, or maybe leave bite marks and bruises that obliterate the intended patterns. Or maybe he wants Brent to wear a long sleeved shirt so he doesn’t have to see any of it. He isn’t really sure.

Then there’s the dragon on Brent’s thigh. Mikko takes a deep breath and wonders just what it was he did to bring his life to right here.

Brent’s body, under all the ink, is incredibly familiar. Mikko knows it intimately. He looks away, turning towards his own, unrumpled bed.

He wonders if he’ll be able to sleep. After all this time he should have solved the problem of sleeping in strange beds, but he hasn’t. He feels drained, but unsettled. That’s probably what leads him to ask, "Do you think we should keep doing this?"

It’s a question that’s been simmering for a while in the back of his mind. He isn’t sure why he decided right now is the right time to bring it up.

Brent seems confused. "Yeah, sure — I mean, I don't see why not?"

Mikko turns to look at him. He’s propped up on his elbows, sheets pulled up to his hips. He’ll shower in the morning, and make coffee. That’s how it works. 

There isn't any obvious reason why they should stop. Still— "I guess I'm not interested in the why-not,” Mikko says. “I'm more interested in why we keep going."

He has some answers. It's easy. It's habit. It's nice enough. That isn’t good enough.

Brent thinks about it, brow furrowed. "I'm not sure?

Exactly. Brent isn’t sure, and Mikko isn’t sure, and uncertainty would be fine, but it honestly seems it’s worse than that, like they don’t have a clue.

“Can we talk about it in the fall?” Brent asks, which isn’t unreasonable. He’s probably tired, Mikko certainly is. They should go to sleep now and talk about this in the fall. It’s almost at the end of the season. Maybe in the fall Mikko will be able to see more than loose ends, threads that need to be sewn in or cut off. 

They lost to the Canucks earlier in the night. Losing in Vancouver is a familiar feeling, though they normally manage better than 5-0. Everything seems to be an ending or a disaster ready to happen.

“Sure, we can talk in the fall.”

Even if they aren’t discussing it, Mikko feels lighter, having the question out in the open.

Maybe this will all seem reasonable after a summer apart, or maybe they’ll see that it’s something they’ve grown out of. Maybe after a summer apart they’ll miss it. That would be surprising, but not unthinkable.

Hopefully the summer will be revitalizing. There are two more games this season. They don’t matter much at this point, but it would feel nice to win. Then Mikko will be flying off to play for Finland, and Brent will be headed home to his family.

Hopefully in the fall they’ll be ready to come back and play good hockey and turn the team around. That’s what they both want. Things will be different in the fall.

**Author's Note:**

> I actually looked up the Wild’s schedule for the end of the 10-11 season, and I saw that they lost pathetically to Vancouver, which is probably what I would have made up because it just seems obvious. Also, that was a depressing google search.
> 
> Also, if you’re curious, some actual facts are that Mikko Koivu was road roommates with Nick Schultz until Schultz got traded to the Oilers. But I can ignore that if I want to! Because fiction! But I think it might be the only Wild road roommate fact I have so I felt sort of bad throwing it away.
> 
> and if you’ve never seen them, Brent Burns’ tattoos: http://hockeyplayerswithtattoos.tumblr.com/tagged/brent-burns
> 
> This isn’t actually an unhappy ending, because Mikko goes off to win the world cup and meet Granlund and is set up for future happiness, and on draft day Brent Burns is traded to sunny California where he can look like a yeti and fit in. This means in the fall they never have to have a really awkward conversation, which they had both been dreading.
> 
> Also writing this might have been a really bad idea. ha. fuck.
> 
> I have to thank Stellarer so much for existing, and betaing this fic, and putting up with me as I wrote it, and thought about it. We spent the whole time calling it “the terrible thing,” and the reason why it isn’t actually terrible is because she made it so much better. <3


End file.
